Ambition
by Volenta
Summary: It started out as a low blow to annoy my parents, to become a trainer like so many other rejects. But somewhere along the road I ended up with devoted followers, an international conflict and situations that went way above my head. But in the end I am just a guy, trying to climb a mountain with my bare hands and failing miserably. Oc-centric.


**Author's Note:  
A story that had been in my mind for some time, seeing how I like pokémon. I just hope it's good.**

* * *

**Ambition**

_It started out as a low blow to annoy my parents, to become a trainer like so many other rejects. But somewhere along the road I ended up with devoted followers, an international conflict and situations that went way above my head. But in the end I am just a guy, trying to climb a mountain with my bare hands and failing miserably._

_Oc-centric._

**Chapter One**

**Beginnings**

**Or,**

**At the lowest point**

There was very little I could claim to truly be good at, I was _great _at maths though, but that was it. I couldn't play an instrument, could only swim with swimming goggles and keeping my nostrils closed with one hand and I didn't even bother with cooking, soccer or anything even remotely mechanical. That was me, ever since a child my only real ambition was to settle down with a nice, average girl and have one kid and a nice, average job, save up to buy a boat and spend my retirement with my wife on said boat.

My parents didn't really agree with that.

They saw me going places, making money as a doctor, lawyer, psychiatrist, actor or as the host of some famous talk show. When my aptitude for numbers shone through they changed it to physicist, scientist or mathematical-genius. I didn't really care for any of those and never even bothered to feign an interest in pursuing the career paths they tried to make me follow. I didn't go to the open days that Sinnoh's prominent universities hosted, didn't bother changing the classes I took and let my grades remain comfortably in the middle of the pack.

Once again, my parents disagreed and their blatantly obvious attempts to 'secure me good prospects for the future' were starting to get annoying.

So my bright, thirteen year old brain came up with the perfect, parent-proof way to get them to quit nagging.

I'd become a pokémon trainer.

I disliked pokémon, journeying, camping and battling just as much as I disliked lawyers, psychiatrists and actors. But this one I actually chose myself, this idea was _mine_. That only justified my reasoning (if it could be called that) in my mind, the idea was _mine _so it was _good_. It also had the added bonus of pay, Sinnoh paid its trainers decently, and freedom and then there was the most important of all reasons. It would freak out my parents, but they didn't have a leg to stand on.

The League was always on the side of prospective trainers and only serious medical conditions could make them refuse you. Any drunkard could walk to a pokémon center, demand a license and be a trainer. They did have a minimum age requirement, 6 for those with anyone over 15 accompanying them and 10 for the others. And parents were required to give permission, but that was merely to smooth ruffled feathers and didn't actually keep anyone from going. Parents couldn't _legally _keep a healthy child from going on a journey, heaps of lost lawsuits proved that.

And that was the extent of my genius plan. I'd start a journey, getting away from my parents and annoying them in one single strike.

It was childish, utterly so, to start a journey just because it annoys my parents. But that didn't stop me from doing so anyway.

_~.~.~.__**A**__m__**b**__i__**t**__i__**o**__n__.~.~.~_

"Hi, mom, dad, err-" I said awkwardly as I scratched my head and shifted my weight from one leg to another, "so, I've kind of, like, decided to become a trainer. You know, because I think I can be good at it and you always wanted me to do something useful and that can make me famous and rich and 'cause I don't like lawyers and I'm not good with blood and-"

My dad singlehandedly stopped my mindless rambling with a pointed glance that immediately made me shut my mouth and feel tiny and insignificant, shakily standing in front of him like a servant would stand in front of his king.

"I'm disappointed in you," my dad said calmly as he signed the waiver I handed him, his signature appearing on the paper with a flourish before he handed it back to me. "I expected better of you, you know that."

My mom merely watched from her perch behind my dad, her posture tall and imposing as she pursed her lips. I knew the look in her eye well, it was one she often wore when discussing my 'imminent future'.

"Darling," she crooned as she reached forward to brush a stray lock from my forehead, "I _know _you hate the outdoors, so let's put an end to this madness, shall we? You're not convincing me here, I _did _give _birth _to you, remember?"

I cringed, thanking God that I _didn't _remember her giving birth to me. I mean, _ewww_! I don't want to remember being squeezed-

I groaned, pushing the disgusting image away, back to the dark recess of my mind where I kept it locked behind bars together with the rest of the 'where babies come from' talk my teacher had once given me and my classmates.

"Gross, _mom_!" my voice came out a little whiny, but I didn't mind, "_don't _bring that up, you know it freaks me out!"

"Oh but _honey_," mom whispered in a sugary-sweet voice as she shot me a glance that was one half pitiful and one half deadly serious, "but you're so _young_. I don't want you to leave, darling, and you know trainers don't have much of a future, I know you do. So why even bother?"

Her manicured hand with its ruby-red nails reached out to subtly _rip_ the paper from my dad's grasp but I was faster, almost tearing the fragile paper in my haste to get it out of her reach lest she shred it to pieces in front of my eyes.

"_But_," it was my dad that spoke up suddenly, almost making me shriek like a little girl as I nearly dropped the waiver I was desperately trying to shove into my pockets, "it is his choice. If you want to become a trainer there is nothing we can do to stop you. I just hope you don't come home crying within the month because that isn't how we raised you. You're better than that, I know you are."

His last words were directed at me and they felt like someone took a knife and drove it into my heart, I almost hung my head as I thought back on how this was nothing but an elaborate ploy to annoy them and to finally do whatever _I _wanted to.

But instead of shrivelling up like a rotter banana I steadier my shoulders and manned up. Mustering up the biggest, fakest grin I ever envisioned and then sending it at my dad's unconvinced face felt almost like betrayal, _almost_. Until the giddy felling of having pulled one over my parents caught up, took over and _punched _whatever shame I had in the gut.

And then my grin became more real, my cheeks hurting from the sheer size of it before I let it fade away and merely smirked at my dad.

"I'll be fine, dad, I just kind-off decided to be a trainer out of the blue. You know how that goes, one day you wake up and all you can think about is sleeping on the road, raising a team of champions and becoming the very best. I think my revelation was just a little late, but I really want to go and feel the thrills of an epic adventure and …"

My eyes trailed back up to my dad's own brown ones and I could see he didn't buy my lies for even a second, even though he didn't _give birth _to me he was still my _dad _and had known me ever since my mom, well, _gave birth _to me.

"So … " my voice trailed off again and I shifted my weight back to my other leg again, letting my eyes drop their gaze to the thick carpet on the floor instead of meeting my dad's stare any further.

"You'll be leaving today and want us to put your monthly allowance in your bank account _or _savings account, or both, knowing you, and you'll probably want me to drive you to the pokémon center, am I right?"

I grinned again and nodded enthusiastically, glad dad caught my drift.

Dad shrugged, "very well then. I expect you to be ready in an hour. You don't need any extra money for your, what did they call it again? A starter?"

I shook my head, "nah. You can get them for free at a pokécenter, mostly generic pokémon but they're free."

I saw my father pick up his abandoned newspaper again and knew it to be my cue to leave, which did happily. Bounding up the stairs and rushing into my room as I threw my empty backpack on my bed and started filling it with whatever I might need on my 'epic journey'.

At one point I rushed back downstairs to grab some kitchen supplies, a can opener and some cutlery for the most part, only to see my parents talking to each other in hushed voices. My mom's eyes were red and puffy and my dad just looked as calm as ever but I still couldn't help but feel the distinct air of disappointment hanging around him.

I walked back to my room a little slower this time, the elation and pride draining out of me quickly as shame and guilt came back to punch me in the gut, leaving me more than a little uncomfortable as I threw the stuff I carried in my arms haphazardly back into my bag.

I loved my parents, and they loved me as well, and it _hurt _to disappoint them like this. But my plan, though not guilt-proof, was still perfect and being a trainer was a guaranteed ticket out of here. Out of my mom's overbearing reach, my dad's aloof nudges towards 'the right direction'. A ticket to _freedom_, a ticket to sleeping in on schooldays and getting _paid _to do so.

So an hour later I stood on the muddy-brown 'Welcome Home' doormat with my backpack stuffed with necessities like so many other dropout teens about to go on a journey.

And I felt _great_, underneath the shame, fear and worry.

_~.~.~.__**A**__m__**b**__i__**t**__i__**o**__n__.~.~.~_

But when my dad's van drove away, leaving me standing on the pavement in front of Jubilife's main pokécenter with only my backpack I felt tiny again. Staring up at the tall building in front of me I gulped, trying to calm my rampant nerves as I glanced at the revolving doors in front of me.

But eventually I felt just _awkward _standing there, doing nothing but staring up at the pokécenter. So I took a breath, and then another eight, manned up to the best of my ability and entered the so-called 'sanctuary' for trainers.

If pokémon training was a religion the pokémon centers would be their churches, nurses their priests and the League their god.

And that scared me. To enter such a sacred place for trainers and pokémon alike, the fierce pride they had when talking about one of them on TV. There had been a case where a suspected murderer, who was a registered trainer, had holed up in one of them for five days, only coming out when promises of a fair trial were given. All eighteen trainers and the two nurses in the building ended up testifying in his favour, all claiming to have seen him during the time of the murder and thereby confirming his alibi. In the end the real killer had been found and the trainer was sent off with a bunch of apologies.

It had been a hot topic on the news two years ago, all stations reporting the veritable _siege _held on the pokémon center. Police officers had camped outside, the trainers inside warding off all of their attempts to enter the building. Even the League, always quick to protect its trainers, had put a halt to the police's plans of teleporting in. They quoted legislations, laws, and some officials even downright threatened the police that if they invaded the center that all shared effort between the police department and the League would cease immediately.

It didn't quite come to that, but it _did _cause a scandal that even had some people write books about.

And _that's _why I was hesitant to enter the building that trainers saw as sacred.

But I did so anyway.

I slowly shuffled through the revolving doors, glancing left and right as my hand clutched the strap of my backpack tight enough to turn my knuckles white. I gulped again, trying to force my hastily shovelled-in lunch back down to my stomach as I searched for the registration booth.

I eventually found it, two other boys standing in line as a nurse helped them.

I quickly made my way to it, trying not to make any eye contact with the six or so trainers lounging on the brown couches scattered around a pillar with two huge television screens attached to it. I could almost feel their gazes passing over me, sizing me up before dismissing me and turning back to the screens in front of them.

The first boy in line was done already, almost skipping to one of the couches where a blonde girl clapped him on the back enthusiastically before I averted my eyes again, staring at the nurse instead.

She was odd, her cotton-candy pink hair was offset by sharp green eyes that were surrounded by black eyeliner. She looked like girls that circled their eyes time and again, looking like a zigzagoon. She had a ring going right through her nostril and her earlobes and eyebrow were pierced as well. Her nose was as sharp as her eyes and her mouth was twisted in a nasty sneer as she typed away on her computer, in short: she looked _scary_.

And so I gulped again, trying desperately not to start hyperventilating.

Her nametag said her name was _Ellie_, but to me she was the spawn of evil as she cast me an annoyed glare before helping the guy in front of me again.

I breathed in through my nose, _in _and _out_, and clasped my hands in one another. Staring at the screen hanging above the booth instead and trying to get myself interested in the short documentary about flees on pokémon and how to prevent them.

It wasn't until the person in front of me was done as well that she _really _got scary. With a dispassionate wave of her hand she beckoned me over, giving me the evil-eye when my steps faltered and I nearly tripped over thin air.

"Name," she spat out as she gave me a thorough once-over and clearly found me lacking, turning her nose up and huffing exasperatedly.

"Err," I mumbled, fumbling with the ID I tried to retrieve from my pocket before shoving it to her over the counter, "it-t's, err, all on here, ma'am."

"Look, _sweetie_," the girl crooned sarcastically as she took my ID and typed the relevant information on her computer, "you gots permission from yer' folks?"

"Yeah," I whispered, shoving the paper my dad had signed over the counter as well, "I gots, I mean _got_, permission. Ma'am."

"Mm-mm," she hummed, typing away furiously before pushing a leaflet towards me, not even _glancing _at my dad's signature or asking any other questions.

"What's that?" I asked, frowning at the paper.

"A guide on how to download the trainer registration app onto your phone, so we can find you in emergencies. Unless you want the standard League-issued C-gear? No? I thought so. Now, I want you to stick out your right hand."

I did so and she promptly pressed my thumb and index finger onto a tablet of some sorts before letting go swiftly, as if my hands were dirty. Which they weren't, or well, not _that _dirty.

"Make sure to download it though, I'm serious here, dun' be like them idiots. Freaking assholes, they are, now, where were we? Oh yes," the girl sighed dramatically as she sneered at me again, "do you require a League-issued starter pokémon as well?"

I nodded wordlessly and the girl's face fell.

"Cheap idiot," she mumbled under her breath as she handed me another tablet, this one with pictures of pokémon and their corresponding names on them.

"Do I get to pick?" I asked, I hadn't been sure on that one. All I knew was that you could get one for _free_, and that was what mattered.

"No, you don't, I'm just showin' you the pictures for fun's sake," the nurse spat acidly, "_of course _you pick, brat."

I knew the boy in front of me had taken a growlithe, but I had pretended to be interested in the flea commercial so I didn't pay that much attention, but the picture of the growlithe was still there. As well as pictures of poochyena, shinx, wurmple, caterpie and a few flying-pokémon I couldn't see the differences from. They all had feathers, beaks and claws, that was all I knew.

"Eh," I glanced back at the tablet and decided the guy in front of me probably knew what he was doing, "the growlithe, please, ma'am."

"Of course, a fire-pokémon, how original," the nurse drawled as she typed some more on her computer before a whizzing sound hit my ears. Then she handed me a shiny card, and gave me back my ID. The card had my picture, information as well as a few numbers and other things I didn't understand, but I knew it was my trainer's license.

"Welcome to the great world of pokémon training," the girl said unenthusiastically, "hope ye'll have a great-freaking time."

She then handed me a pokéball, hissing, "standard grade pokéball, no bells and whistles. It's a male growlithe, has his vaccinations and all that. No refunds."

And with that she shoved me off, proving me once again how easy it was to get your license. And in a daze I walked over to the nearest, _empty_, couch and sat down on it as I stared at the red-and-white sphere in my hand.

I was a _trainer _now.

And somewhere, underneath the feeling that I was going to throw up, the fear of losing my lunch, the guilt of doing this to my parents and the apprehension of all that being a trainer encompassed, I felt pride.

And then I ran to the toilet, almost entering the ladies' room, and threw up.


End file.
